My grandma is in the very last stages of her life. It is hard to say, of course, but I can’t see that she will continue for more than a day or two. It could be hours. She is sedated now and unresponsive to touch. This is a blessing in some ways, because her breathing is accompanied by a rattle, and she sometimes appears to be trying to cough and struggling. It is disturbing to watch, but her facial muscles show no signs of agitation. The nurses have reassured us that she is relaxed and that the experience is worse for us than it is for her. Still, it’s difficult.
I am unsure whether I will travel back to London tomorrow–most likely I won’t. I want to be here, not only for my grandma, but also for my mum, who has cared full-time for my grandparents for the past two years (my grandad passed away last September.) She has given up her house, her job and her social life to care for her parents. She is amazing.
I do worry about her though–about all of the things she will have to deal with once my grandma is gone. Her life has been about caring for other people, particularly these past couple of years. I hope that our love and support will be able to help her in the rollercoaster of emotions that she is experiencing and will experience in the coming days and weeks.
The local vicar, Sarah, who knew my grandparents well, came over this evening to visit and to pray for my grandma. It was calming and helpful for all of us. She read Psalm 121, which I would like to share with you. Whether you are religious or not, it is a beautiful collection of words that contain comfort in times like these.